The Pause That Refreshes

After my 12-day trip through Alaska, I began working on a post about how Alaska, or a piece of it, may in future make a likely place for a Neoreactionary State. I also have some ideas about other territories and areas in the U.S. that show promise as a place to put NRx theorie into praxis.

As I tapped keys, however, it occurred to me that I needed this bit of information and that, and shortly I decided that I really ought to further my education before further bloviations about my own brilliant and original ideas…so I’m reading through some parts of The Canon and refreshing my weary mind, before beginning the Major Portion of my blogging here.

I will continue to concentrate on implementation, which I believe I have a useful perspective on, but first I want a better grounding for the base of the ladder, so that when I begin to really sling it, standing on a higher step won’t cause the thing to throw me in the mud.

In addition to the Canon, for those who want something direct, I thought this, from More Right, was very useful (h/t Avenging Red Hand).

Added: I joined Twitter a few days ago, @neovictorian23. I find it useful, if used sparingly…

Kipling, (Neo)reationary

Oft times we make the error of assuming that everyone knows the same things that we know (and the converse).

When Free Northerner posted Kipling’s “If” it reminded me of another poem, one that says so many things I believe, things I want you to know, says them better and much more succinctly than I could say them. At least a few of you may never have encountered it, so it’s certainly worth posting here.

There’s very little daylight between these lines and the general consensus of the the NRx:

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “Stick to the Devil you know.”

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “The Wages of Sin is Death.”

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “If you don’t work you die.” 

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

copybook

Power: How to Get It, How to Use It

I’m on an extended business trip and in Fairbanks, Alaska, where the temperature is -16 F and it’s absolutely beautiful. After some weights and a sauna, walked outside in my shorts with a towel around my neck and saw the aurora borealis. I didn’t feel cold at all. For a few magic moments there was a sense of balance, of equilibrium.

Flying long distances gives one a chance to read uninterrupted, and I took half a dozen books along, including a useful old volume, POWER! How to Get It, How to Use It, by Michael Korda. I touches on something that I’ve been thinking about a good deal in relation to the Quo Vadis of the NR and moving from Theorie to Praxis. As long as we y’all are just blogging and tweeting and having a good intellectual time it’s not an issue, but sooner or later (and sooner that you may think) there’s going to be a time for action, even if the action is only protecting yourself. Korda makes a great point in his book: Power is not just the ability to affect the world; power is also the ability to prevent ourselves from being affected by the world in ways we don’t want. In our current age, when a man with a sword can only practice in private, rather than expect to conquer a principality, developing the power needed just to protect one’s own household is a significant achievement.

Laliberte says it well:

It is my duty to give a purpose. Lay it on your heart through prayer and contemplation to consider what your strengths are. If you do not have them, develop them. Train yourself so that when the time comes and a call to arms is sounded, you are ready to fight. Consider the role that you can serve and excel at it, for that is the duty of all men.

Beyond good intellectual development, beyond study and theory and perfecting our thinking, we need to develop our power. The ability to impact the world, not merely the ability to think clearly, has always been the real test of men. In the age of “leaders” looking to make a deal with evil, willing to sacrifice children to buy a few moments of “peace,” it behooves us to quickly learn about power and to absorb it into ourselves, if only to protect the good, much less proceed into the better.

Origins, Brief Version

Handle’s post Can You Handle It? touches on a number of important points; a little Quo Vadis, a little “Hmm, this is getting serious,” a little direction on what’s important. The part I’ll focus on here is something that I’ve been meaning to do anyway, my own story, of how I came up from the primeval slime and climbed the mountain (okay, so far just the foothills), took the Red Pill and dedicated my every waking moment to bringing down the Cathedral before it gets heavy, man.

Sure.

I’ve been a contrarian of some stripe for as far back as I can remember. I suspect that this is a trait I share with most of the Darkly Enlightened. If everybody in the peer group was wearing some kind of clothing item, I didn’t want to wear it. I rejected my parents mainline Protestantism at an early age, became a True Believer in Science at 12, a Randite at 15, Libertarian at 19, “right libertarian” at around 30, paid Republican political operative at 38, state executive branch appointee at 42, disgusted former legislative aide at 50. For the record, Mr. Chairman, I currently occupy a non-political post in state government: this could be described as being a hopeless sucker-on the government teat, or an embedded agent of Reaktion inside the belly of the beast, ready to cut an artery when the time is right.

It depends on what day of the week you ask.

I suppose that, like a good portion of those reading this, what finally prompted me to go explicitly Neoreactionary was a sense of profound disgust at the culture; art, entertainment, and especially the political culture. I was still working hard to “change the system” when Robert Bork’s sterling character was assassinated, Blowjob Bill Clinton occupied the Oval Office, when the Neocons took over foreign policy, when homosexuals occupied prime time television…but despite having read Molbug as far back as 2010, I was just a beta orbiter until the Miserable Majority of the voters of the United States re-elected the SCOAMF in November, 2012.

Everyone has a different point of clarity. It was a long time coming, admittedly. Many of you saw it much sooner in time, or at a much younger age. But here we are, and now I’m most interested in making something happen.

Wilderness

I’ve been in the Alaska wilderness for the last 5 days, completely out of touch with phone and Web. How refreshing–though I can see I missed a great deal of NR content, I generated some new ideas and plans. So, well worth it. Posting this quickly while in cell phone range.

I expect to get back to regular posting by tomorrow night.

No, Your Men Aren’t Failing You, Bitchez

So in Philadelphia, women are being killed after they give up their purses to the Death Eaters. Of course, it’s just a statistical anomaly, since our present-day Enlightened societies are nicer than they’ve ever been. A Harvard professor even wrote a book about that, so it must be true. And now, a Philadelphia “political consultant”:

He pointed out that the old code of the streets, that thieves don’t hurt women and children, is no longer honored.

“This new generation, they don’t have a clue,” Glenn said disgustedly

Now, the vibrancy of Philadelphia street criminals isn’t in question, but at least the old ones didn’t actually shoot people after sticking a gun in their face and demanding their money. At least not as often. Y’know, accidents happen sometimes during armed robberies.

All this is bad enough, but there’s one more quote in this article that brings out the Darkly Enlightened in me:

“She gave it up and she still was killed,” said Sanchez, 40, an administrative assistant. “It’s 2:40 in the morning. She’s just coming out of the bar. At 2-something in the morning, they probably didn’t have that much cash on them.

“Where are our men? Why are they not protecting us?” Sanchez continued, her voice full of frustration. “Men are failing us. I feel as though we are not being protected.”

Okay, take a deep breath and prepare for all caps:

YOUR MEN ARE NOT THERE BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT MARRIED TO YOU AND NOT LIVING WITH YOU. TWO “INDEPENDENT” WOMEN LEAVING A BAR TOGETHER AT 2 F***** 40 AM DON’T HAVE “MEN” OR THEIR MEN WOULD HAVE HAD THEM AT HOME WHERE THEY COULD PROTECT THEM INSTEAD OF WALKING THE MEAN STREETS OF F***** PHILADELPHIA AT  2 F***** 40 AM. YOU’RE 40 YEARS OLD, BITCH, WHY IS THERE NO MENTION OF A HUSBAND IN THE STORY? YOU’RE “INDEPENDENT” OF MEN NOW, SO GET YOUR OWN PISTOL AND PROTECT YOUR OWN ASS. OH WAIT, YOUR “LIBERAL” CITY HAS “BANNED” GUNS SO NOW YOU CAN’T HAVE ONE AND NEITHER CAN “YOUR MAN” IF YOU GET ONE. ONLY THE MURDEROUS THUGS HAVE THEM NOW, BABE. YOU’RE LIVING IN “PROGRESS” SO EAT IT AND ENJOY IT.

“Men are failing us.” Oh the delicious, delicious irony of that. You need men like a fish needs a bicycle, right? You won’t have any man telling you what to do, right? You’ll wear the clothes you want and go out when you want, but “Where (the f***) are our men?”

Quod erat demonstrandum.